Indian Peaks Wilderness Loop Hike

 

Indian Peaks Wilderness Loop Hike

September 2018 Backpack

Over the summer Teri, a fellow hiker, asked if I was up for a backpack in September.  You never have to ask me twice if I want to go for a backpack, so I begin scheming a weekend trip.  I chose a 28- mile Indian Peaks Loop Hike that will take us over two passes and wind through forests colored with the hues of Fall. 

Behind Schedule

Work waylays me, so we meet later than planned.  We make last minute pack adjustments and start up the Beaver Creek Trail at 3:45 pm.  The trail begins gently winding through the forest and soon we are at the base of Mt. Audubon.  We cross the rocky flank of Audubon and continue straight where the trail turns to climb to the summit.  This fork in the trail marks the high point for today, and while we still have four miles to travel, as least we are done with climbing. 

Coney Flats

We enter the forest as we descend towards Coney Flats.  The sun is low in the sky, robbing the thick forest of light.  Rays of sun dust across the top of the canopy, unable to penetrate the branches and needles.  A stream trickles through the forest.  I stop to listen to the sounds of the forest, and save for the stream, all is silent.  The sound of a vehicle impinges on the silence.  I remember there is a 4-wheel drive road to Coney Flats and soon the silence is restored.

We drop down into a valley colored by browns, golds and amber shrubs.  Evergreen trees intermingled with Aspen, a white trunk stripped naked of its shimmering leaves.  It is late in the day and we find a source of water and a relatively flat spot to set up camp. 

Difficult night

The tent is filled with moon light, skies filled with millions of stars.  Cold sets in and we find our way into warm sleeping bags.  Sleep comes slowly and is disturbed by winds shaking the tent.  A blast hits the tent, I wake, it calms, and I fall back to sleep.  Another blast comes, I wake, it settles, and I fall back to sleep.  I sleep a bit and the cycle begins anew.

Windy morning

The alarm rings at 6 am and we wake feeling beat up and tired.  The wind is constant, pulling at the edges of the rain fly and seeming to take the entire tent.  Cautiously, we get out of the tent.  The wind blasts us, and we work quickly to secure anything that might fly away.  Teri manages to find a secluded spot in a grove of trees.  We eat breakfast in the safety of the trees and enjoy a cup a tea.

The tent finally blows over.  It takes both of us spreading our arms and legs across the tent to keep it from blowing away while we are packing it. 

Interesting wood 

Some downed trees near camp capture my attention and I take some time to explore the details through the view of my lens.  Weather has shaped each inch of wood into its own unique work of art.  I wonder about how the elements left one-part smooth, with fine grains of wood feathering in various directions and warm colors; and some, rough, coarse and almost devoid of color.  A millimeter of distance separates the pieces, yet that small difference results in dramatic differences in color, tone, and texture.  It illustrates perfectly the dance between nature and nurture – the basic structure of the wood is genetically programmed, while the color, shape, tone and texture are shaped over time by the elements. 

A valley warm- up

Movement wakes the body and warms the soul.  As we hike through the valley, finding our cadence, blood begins to flow, and warmth emanates from the core causing us to stop and remove a layer.  We make our way up the valley, traveling through forests of green, yellow, red and brown.  Shimmering Aspen leaves of gold draw the eye and intrigue the mind.  Nature offers so many fantastical objects of living art. 

A cold wind is our constant companion and keeps us moving quickly to avoid a chill setting in.  As we climb higher, the landscape transitions from trees to shrubs and rock.  A bush with bright red berries shinning in the sun sets along the trail.  A gentle stream trickles across the trail, offering us our first source of water for the day.  A young bull moose trots across our path so quickly that I can only get a picture of his back side.  It is still a thrill to encounter a moose and we stop to watch him make his way through the shrubs.  He is much better at cutting through the thick shrub than us! 

Buchannan Pass

One last long switchback and we arrive on top of Buchannan Pass at 11,837 feet.  The wind swirls about, discouraging us from a long linger.  Mountains fill the skyline, adding to the ever- growing list of peaks to climb.  We take a quick snap shot of each of us at the top and begin to wind our way down the other side of the pass.

A valley of Fall colors stretches out on either side of the pass that creates a sense of remote solitude.  Despite encountering several groups of back packers, a sense of solitude is found among the valleys and peaks in this wilderness area.

Down we go

We work hard to arrive at the top of the pass only to drop down the other side and loose all the elevation we earned.  The rocky path soon gives way to forest and soft dirt that feels more stable under foot.  The wind did not follow us, opting to stay at the top of the pass.  A respite from the cold wind is a welcome change. 

Gaps between groves of trees reveal open meadows filled with shrubs and tall grasses.  Sunlight illuminates the field, enhancing the soft, warm colors of brown, amber, yellow and a touch of green.  Long grasses sway gently in the wind.  The air feels like Fall – warm sun, cool, crisp air that still requires a light jacket.    

Cascade Creek Trail

The trail junction marks the low point of our path for today.  We now begin the long climb to Pawnee Pass.  The trail follows Cascade Creek and it soon becomes apparent why the trail carries the name of “Cascade”.  The trail steadily climbs past several cascades of water, each of varying size and volume.  Steep drops cause the water to cascade over the rocks, filling deep pools below.  The late afternoon sun sits below the tree tops, shading the falls creating pictures of soft, flowing water.  

A field of long grass offers a nice bed for a young bull moose.  Only his ears and antlers rise above the grass.  I stay in the trees so as not to disturb the resting moose.  Suddenly, he stands and thrashes about the grass to improve his bed, then lays back down to slumber.  We wish him a good night and continue on our way.

A fine sunset

We meet several hikers who report a camp full of people and dogs, causing us to reconsider our destination for the evening.  At the top of the last cascade a small trail wanders into the forest.  We follow and find a secluded, delightful place to call home.

Our camp has a large rock platform that affords us a view of the valley below and a bare mountain across the valley.   As we complete our evening chores we watch the sun paint the mountain shades of red and pink.  The fading light challenges the camera to capture the perfect picture of the mountain in full color.  Only a matter of seconds separates the moment of full color and the moment of no color.  The color intensifies and then, it is gone! 

 

Pawnee Lake

We wake early with the intention of getting on the trail early.  We still have ten miles to go and another 3,000 feet to climb.  As we climb, hiker after hiker passes us, almost everyone with a dog.  We stop counting after 25.  One hiker tells us more than 50 campers were at Carter Lake the previous night.  We smile at each other, satisfied that we made the right decision to find a quiet, secluded place to stay.

While it is only a few miles it seems like the trail goes on forever.  We finally arrive at Pawnee Lake, situated in a bowl surrounded by sharp spires and peaks.  We search the mountainside looking for the trail to the pass.  As is typical the rocky terrain does not reveal the path.  We will have to find it as we go.

We take a short break and fill up on water and take in some calories to fuel us over the final 1500 feet to Pawnee Pass.  The wind picks up and the temperature drops, forcing us to put on another layer. 

Pawnee Pass 

We soon leave the last wind stunted trees and enter the zone of rocks and shrubs.  A low point along the ridge suggests our destination.  The rocky trail winds up the side of the mountain, switchback after switchback.  At times multiple paths present, but no matter as they all go uphill.  Missing sections require a large step to cross the empty space. 

The wind is fierce, knocking me from my feet.  It feels like trying to walk through the agitation cycle of a washing machine – being tossed from one side to the other.  The roar of the wind is so loud that yelling is futile.  We must continue to the top.

As we approach the last switchback a gust of wind steals my warm hat from my head.  I twirl about looking for where it went.  To no avail!  The wind gods have absconded with my hat.  I grin and chuckle at the thought of a spire topped with my hat.  Finally, we reach the top, marked by a huge sign announcing Pawnee Pass 12,500 feet of elevation.

Back to where we started

We don’t dawdle at the top.  A quick picture and we start down the other side.  The afternoon is upon us and we still have 5 miles to travel.  Relief from the wind comes as we loose elevation.  We reach tree line and take time to eat lunch.  It is warm, and the skies are filling with clouds – threatening an afternoon thundershower.  While getting wet would not be my favorite, we are at least in the safety of the trees allowing us to finish our lunch before moving on. 

Before long we are at Lake Isabelle, bustling with day hikers.  We continue our way and arrive at the trail head for Lake Isabelle, with still a mile to go along the road to get back to our car.  In 15 minutes we cover the distance and arrive at our car at 4:30 pm.  We beat the rain and load our packs, content with the Indian Peaks Wilderness Fall wander.

WanderJill